Cereal Tastes Better With A Side Of Fluff
by Two-Bits
Summary: Ah, the power of cereal! A series of currentlymeaningless ficless. SLASH! COMPLETE!
1. Honey Nut Cheerios

Okay, I have decided to rewrite the Cereals series, because they're just not long enough. Eventually I'll tie them all together, and who knows what happens then? I might actually make a not-quite-so-pointless story out of this.

Slightly: Pray to God she doesn't.

Shut up.

* * *

"Dutchy! I can't eat this! This is unhealthy!" Specs Allen exclaimed, staring down at the bowl his best friend had placed in front of him. He was a tall, with curly dark brown hair that he usually hid under a fedora, but seeing as he had just woken up, he wasn't. Dutchy Durecht, tall, and gangly, with silky, surfer-boy blonde hair, rolled his piercing blue eyes, which were hidden behind half-moon glasses.

"It's Cheerios, Specs. It's good for your heart!" he replied, dropping a spoon unceremoniously into his bowl. Specs was a health fanatic to the extreme, and Dutchy, who had known him for four years, did not put up with his friend's oddities. Sure, he wouldn't feed Specs a cheese burger, but he wasn't going to listen to him complain about healthy cereal not being healthy enough.

"But it's _Honey Nut_ Cheerios!" Specs retorted, sliding the bowl away, defiantly. "It's full of sugar!" Dutchy rolled his eyes again.

"Specs, eat it, or be doomed to go hungry 'till noon,' Dutchy warned, waggling a finger under Specs's nose. He poured himself a glass of milk, ignoring Specs's long-suffering sigh.

Specs had stayed the night after a long party. Now the poor health-fanatic was being threatened with the prospect of sugars. He sat on a stool in nothing but plaid sleep pants, staring through his round glasses in horror at the bowl of Cheerios and two percent milk. Specs looked up at Dutchy, who was leaning back against the sink, sipping his milk, and watching Specs expectantly. Specs glared at him, suspiciously.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Yes, absolutely, I am trying to kill you, Specs, because the fact that you've been my best friend for four straight years means nothing," Dutchy sighed, setting down his milk. He pushed away from the counter and walked around it and behind Specs. He picked up the spoon, loaded with the soggy rings, and coaxingly held it under Specs's lips.

Knowing that it was pointless, and silently repenting of all his sins in case he died from the accursed cereal, he obediently opened his mouth, and Dutchy pressed the spoon through his best friend's parted lips. Smiling, Dutchy wiped a few drops of stray milk from his chin, and his thumb came to rest on Specs's lower lip.Specs stared up at Dutchy, his brown eyes wide. Dutchy was staring at his lips, entranced, his thumb still resting on the lower. Specs's younger sister, Darla, had a tendency to inform him of girly, no-one-needs-to-know-that information, and she had once told him that if someone stares at your lips, it means they want to kiss you.

Figuring that since they had been friends for so long, Dutchy wouldn't freak out _too_ bad if he was wrong, and praying that he _wasn't_ wrong, Specs leaned up and pressed his lips against Dutchy's, savoring the warm, tingly sensation in the pit of his stomach as Dutchy wrapped his arms around his waist. As he pushed his tongue into Dutchy's mouth, he made a mental note to get Darla the video game she wanted so bad. A thought occurred to Specs, and it made him smile against Dutchy's lips.

Dutchy was right—Cheerios _are_ good for your heart.


	2. Cocoa Puffs

Slightly: Two-Bits has decided that she is, in fact going to mutilate--ahem, I mean tie these ficlets together and form some sort of plot.

Good boy. Alright, now do it.

Slightly: No.

_Do. It._

Slightly: ((sigh)) We read, we chew (on cookies), you read, you review!

* * *

"Mush...What happened to my Cocoa Puffs?" Kid Blink Williams asked, staring, dumbfounded, at the cabinet, which was empty of the item he was looking for. He glanced, suspiciously, over at his roommate, who was reading one of those Chicken Soup for the Whoever's Soul books. Mush Meyers didn't look up, but a guilty smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"I definitely didn't eat them, that's for sure..."

"MUSH! You ate my Cocoa Puffs?!" Blink yelped, looking horrified. Mush looked up and made a point of rolling his eyes at his Cocoa-Puffs-obsessed friend, then returned to his book.

"There's an un-opened bag of Chocolate Balls in the cabinet," he said, flipping a page. Kid Blink looked disgusted at the very thought, and sunk into a the chair next to Mush, seemingly in trauma.

"Chocolate Balls? _Chocolate Balls?! _I can't eat those! Those are disgraceful!" he exclaimed, mellow-dramatically, waving his hands for dramatic effect, which he stopped, abruptly, when he knocked over his half-drunk glass of orange juice. Mush rolled his eyes, inwardly.

"Blink, they taste exactly the same."

There was a moment of silence; Blink couldn't think up a reply. Instead, he reached across the table for a napkin, and his hand paused, as he examined the book Mush was pouring over. It was laid flat, so Kid Blink couldn't see the cover, but he knew it was a Chicken Soup book. That's all Mush ever read these days, and it worried him.

Mush had been acting weird for two weeks. He'd started by giving Blink this weird, nervous look every time he caught his eyes. Blink had worried for a week about whether Mush had figured out his secret. Blink had a huge crush on Mush, but he was always worried Mush would freak out. However, after a week, or so, Mush relaxed, and everything went back to normal, except for those blasted Chicken Soup books.

"Mush, whatcha' readin'?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Chicken Soup for the Fag's Soul."

There was a second awkward silence. Blink's eyes widened, and he wondered whether this was one of his Mush fantasies again. But he could feel the orange juice seeping into his shirt where his stomach was pressed against the table, and he knew it was real.

His fingers twitched, and he looked at his hand. Mush's eyes had not lifted from his book. Rather, they were firmly staring at the book, not moving, just waiting for his reaction. Thus, he did not realize that Blink's fingers were centimeters away from his.  
Blink slowly reached over and slid his upturned palm underneath Mush's and weaved his fingers through his room mate's. Mush looked up, surprise and hope in his beautiful, chocolate brown eyes. They widened as Blink leaned over and pulled him into a kiss. Sighing in relief at finally being able to kiss Mush, Blink raised his other hand and buried it in the dark curls. Mush smiled against his lips and kissed back, sucking on Blink's lower lip.

Maybe he could live with chocolate balls.


	3. Fruit Loops

I love Sprace...Okay, we're experimenting with the Review Jingle--

Slightly: You mean _you're_ experimenting with the Review Jingle.

--so here's the new one. To the tune of (I Hate) Everything About You.)

Slightly: I. Want. You to review! Please. Reviewwwww...This Fic!

* * *

"My mother can_not_ cook," Spot Conlon complained, as the side door opened. He picked, half-heartedly, at the limp, greenish-in-color, supposedly-scrambled eggs, his lip curled in disgust. His best friend came in, carrying a brown paper bag. Racetrack Higgins rolled his eyes. "Isn't that what mothers are supposed to be good at? Cooking?" Spot continued. "'Cause she _sucks_."

"Ah, yes, but best friend ALWAYS comes to save the day!" Racetrack exclaimed, with a smirk, setting down the brown bag. Spot straightened up and grinned at Race, hopefully.

"What'd you get?" he exclaimed, looking like a child at Christmas. Yeah. His mother _sucked_ at cooking.

"Definitely not Fruit Loops," Race replied with a teasing grin. Spot's eyes widened as Racetrack pulled out the red cereal box, graced with the picture of Toucan Sam on the front.

"_Fruit Loops?!_ SCORE!!!" He pumped his fist in the air, jubilantly, as Racetrack began pouring two bowls. Race laughed and turned around, opening the fridge.

"Houston, we have a problem." Spot froze in the middle of his victory dance, looking fearful. He lowered his arms and his shoulders slumped.

"What?" he finally asked, apprehensively. Racetrack turned to him, a very serious expression on his face, and he spoke slowly and quietly, as if he were informing Spot that it was the Apocolypse.

It was.

"We have. No. MILK!" he said, very dramatically. So much for slowly and quietly. Spot fell off of his stool, to his knees, fake sobs issuing from his mouth.

"Why? Why?! Why do you smite me?!" he cried, shaking his fist for emphasis at the ceiling. "Is it for your own twisted pleasure?" His voice switched to accusatory. "It is, isn't it? You just love to see me suffering, writhing in pain, don't you?"

"Yes. The ceiling fan is very much against you," Racetrack said, his voice only _slightly_ dripping with sarcasm. "You know, you could eat it dry." Spot stared at him as if the very thought of eating his Fruit Loops dry was offensive.

"Dry? _Dry?_ Cereal is not complete without its better half: milk!" he exclaimed, looking at Racetrack as if he had suddenly sprouted for extra heads and a tail. Race rolled his eyes.

"I dunno why you're in band. You're such a drama queen," he said, plucking a fruit loop out of one of the bowls. Spot grinned, cheekily.

"So? If I was in drama, we wouldn't be able to have our little...erm...'sessions' while Mrs. Green isn't looking," Spot said, slyly, reaching up. He grabbed Race by the collar and pulled him down for a kiss. Race hungrily opened his mouth to let in Spot's tongue, but he pulled away. Now was not the time. Spot opened his mouth to protest at the short kiss, but Race popped the Fruit Loop in his mouth.

"I guess they aren't _so_ bad dry," he said, chewing, thoughtfully.

"I thought not."


	4. Reece's Puffs

Snifty! I think this one is actually my favorite. I love it! New Review Jungle! (To the tune of My Immortal)

Slightly: I tried so hard just to get a review! And though you're still reading, I'm still reviewless...

* * *

"Snoddy...? What are you doing?" Swifty Takahashi asked, hesitantly, almost as if he didn't want to know. He pushed open the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. What he saw made him choke, slightly, as he tried not to laugh.

Snoddy Stone, a normally dignified, clean-cut boy, looked absolutely ridiculous. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, covered in white flower, glaring, mutinously, at the stove, as if it were the spawn of evil, which, in his opinion, it was. The kitchen looked like a hurricane had just come through. Everyyy square inch of the counter, stove, and floor was covered in white flour. Unwrapped butter sat on the counter, half-melted, and looked like Snoddy had mutilated it in anger, which, though Swifty didn't know this, he had. The syrup bottle had tipped over, and was all over his hands. Snoddy was sucking (very sexily) on two of his fingers, which put a damper on the death glare look he was going for. On the stove was a burnt and blackened, charcoal-y mess, which looked like it had been going for a divided, circular look, but had failed, miserably, and only looked like a blob.

"I was _trying_ to make pancakes for breakfast," he said, sheepishly, looking around at the mess. Swifty stared at him, that answer being the last he had expected. Then, unable to hold it in any longer, he burst out laughing. "It's not funny!" Snoddy said, heatedly. Swifty shook his head.

"I'm not laughing at you, Snoddy!" he said between giggles. "Just...Well...You can't cook!" Snoddy put his hands on his hips and glared, irritably, at Swifty.

"I figured that out when the pancakes lit on fire," he muttered, darkly, flipping off the stove behind his back.

"What about the flour?" Swifty asked, running a finger through the white dust.

"The bag exploded when I was trying to open it." Swifty grinned, and hugged his boyfriend, kissing him on his powdery nose. Snoddy grumbled, but couldn't help but smile.

"How 'bout some cereal?" Swifty suggested, pulling out a box of Reece's Puffs Cereal. Snoddy sighed in defeat, and sat down at the table, ignoring the flour that was everywhere, as Swifty poured two bowls. He crunched into the peanut butter and chocolate puffy things, and gave one last glare to the stove.

"Cereal beats pancakes anyways," he muttered, darkly.

"'Specially Reece's Puffs."


	5. Apple Jacks

Chapter...er...whatever this one is! It's Davick!

Slightly: I swear, you're obsessed with that word.

Am not...

Slightly: You'll probably name your _kid_ that...

I...Just do the Reiew Jingle! (To the tune of Predictable.)

Slightly: I knew it all along. You're so reviewable. But you never review mine. (So predictable.)

* * *

Davvy Jacobs rolled over and opened his blue eyes, wincing at the sunlight that was streaming through the window. What he saw was a pair of large, brown eyes, and a big smile. "Morning, Dave," Jack Kelly greeted, playing with one of Davvy's curls. Davvy smiled and yawned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Hey, babe. What time is it?" he asked, groggily, rolling onto his back.

"Near ten," Jack replied, sitting up. Davvy paused to admire Jack's figure with a smile.

"How long have you been up?" he asked, sitting up as well, and wrapping one arm around his waist. Jack shrugged one shoulder, kissing the top of his head.

"I dunno. Half an hour, maybe?" Davvy's mouth snapped shut, instantly, in mid-yawn. He frowned, getting that motherly look he had perfected.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Davvy demanded. Jack grinned, and Davvy could sense a stupid line coming. Jack always said corny things just to annoy him.

"Cause I like watching you sleep. You look like an angel." Despite trying to glare, Davvy blushed, and shoved him, playfully.

"You are such a sap, Jack!" he laughed, as Jack wrapped his arms around him. "Want some breakfast?" Davvy asked, crawling out of bed and Jack's arms. Jack pouted, a little, getting up, too. He pulled on a sweatshirt.

"Do we even _have_ any breakfast?" he asked, skeptically, following Davvy into the kitchen. Davvy nodded, indignantly.

"I bought some Apple Jacks yesterday!" he said, opening a cabinet. Jack began pulling out bowls and spoons.

"Apple Jacks? Sweet! My favorite!" Jack exclaimed, sitting at the table. Davvy snorted.

"Yeah, 'cause they're full of sugar, and have your name in the title," he replied, slightly scathingly. Jack grinned, innocently, as he sat down, pouring milk into the bowls.

"So?" He leaned over and caught Davvy's mouth in his own, slipping his tongue into his boyfriend's mouth. He rang his tongue over the ridges of Davvy's mouth and, after getting a satisfying giggle, he grabbed a bowl. Davvy licked his lips and winked.

"Mmm...you're way better than the Apple Jacks."


	6. Cookie Crisps

Chapter six! Snittery! Skittery's so hot...Mmm...

Slightly: You're drooling.

Am not! Review Jingle time! (To the tune of Silver and Cold.)

Slightly: Your reviews to me! Oh my beautiful fan. Your reviews to me! Whoa-oh!

* * *

"Hey, Skittery! Ready for lunch?" Snitch Ryder called, as Skittery Phillips approached the beat up station wagon that was Snitch's car. Skittery shook his head, deftly, climbing into the passenger seat.

"Nope. I didn't have breakfast. I need cereal," he said, matter-of-factly, as Snitch started up the car. Snitch raised an eyebrow at him.

"Cereal?" he asked, reaching forward to flip through the radio stations.

"Yes!" Skittery said, emphatically. "I haven't had my Cookie Crisps since yesterday!" Snitch gave him a look that clearly said he was a lunatic.

"You are absolutely obsessed with Cookie Crisps!" he replied, rolling his eyes. Skittery shrugged, guiltily. And turned off the radio, grimacing at Snitch's oldies music.

"I can't help it. Those things are addictive," he said, swatting Snitch's hand away as he tried to turn it back on.

"Those things are nasty!" Snitch said, wrinkling his nose as he tried, and failed, to get his music.

"Are not! Anyway, let's go to my house. You can make a sandwich, or something." Snitch rolled his eyes and gave up on the music.

"You are so…weird." Skittery laughed, and Snitch headed for Skittery's house, where he lived with his mom. "Is your mom home?" he asked, hopefully. Skittery shook his head.

"She's out of town," he replied. Snitch sighed, sadly, parking in Skittery's driveway.

"Too bad," he said, forlornly. "Your mom's real nice. And she can cook like nobody's business!" he added. Skittery laughed.

"I think we've got leftover chicken wraps from last night's dinner. You can attack those," he offered, knowing that Snitch would readily accept in a heartbeat.

"YAY!" Snitch squealed, jumping out of the car. He unlocked the house with the spare key he'd been given, and practically pounced on their fridge, while Skittery calmly opened the cabinet and pulled out his Cookie Crisps.

"You're a psycho, you know that?" Skittery said, casually, taking a bite of Cookie Crisps. Snitch grinned, flippantly, not even bothering to put the cold leftovers in the microwave.

"Yeah, but that's why you love me, ain't it?" Skittery nodded.

"True, true." He gave Snitch a quick kiss, nibbling his lower lip, slightly, before Snitch could chow down. Snitch smiled, thoughtfully, when he pulled away.

"Perhaps Cookie Crisp isn't too bad."


	7. Epilogue

Shoutouts!

HAZZAGRIFF: ...Dahling, I hate to break it to you, but...

Slightly: You sound like a bloomin' caveman!

Be nice, Slightly!

Sage1899: Yeah, I know they're short, but it's pretty much just quickie little fluffy thingys. Not really in-depth entries. Maybe I'll revise it, but not any time soon.

BoomerRang: I'm tempted to write another review jingle, just to spite you, but I've decided not to.

Slightly: -snort- More like you don't have the talent to think up another one!

Shut. Up.

* * *

"Does anyone else think it's weird that we seem to share a cereal fetish?" Kid Blink asked conversationally. He'd invited all of his friends over to watch a movie, and they'd shown up in pairs, each with a cereal box.

"Nope," Race said, popping a green Fruit Loop in his mouth. Kid Blink shrugged and sat in front of the bookcase of DVDs.

"What shalt we watch?" he asked, scanning his movies.

"Chocolat!" Specs exclaimed. Kid Blink rolled his eyes and the others groaned and protested. Dutchy must have put something in Specs' Cheerios, because he was being annoyingly sappy. Dutchy popped another Cheerio in Specs' mouth and said, "Hush, love."

"How 'bout CAMP?" Spot suggested. Race looked at Spot, and at the same time, with mischievous grins, they said, "Band class." No one else understood, but there was a mutual feeling that they didn't _need_ to know.

"SPACEBALLS!" Kid Blink shouted around a mouthful of Chocolate Balls. Which was weird, since he usually ate Cocoa puffs, but no one was about to ask. Mush clamped a hand over his mouth, making a revolted face.

"Don't talk with your mouth full!" he scolded. Kid Blink gave him an apologetic look.

"Somebody turn on the TV!" Snitch complained. "I'm tired of waiting for Blink!" Spot leaned across Race's lap and grabbed the remote. He clicked on the TV and Snoddy and Swifty immediately began cheering.

"IT'S REECE'S! FOR BREAKFAST!" they chorused.

"SHUT UP!" the other boys exclaimed. The commercial ended, and Angel returned.

"Ah…Angel," Jack said with a suggestive smirk to David. David promptly blushed and shoved him, hissing, "Shut up!"

"How 'bout the video where you and Mush are making cookies?" Snitch suggested. Skittery made a face.

"You make it sound like it's a porno," he said. Mush wriggled his eyebrows.

"Want one?"

"NO!" all the boys chorused. There was a pause, and Kid Blink muttered, "_I_ wouldn't mind…"

Several pillows were thrown his way.

"All right, all right! How 'bout Men In Black?" There were no objections, so Men In Black it was.

And they ate cereal the whole time.


End file.
